


Consider the Great Wall of China

by paradisecity



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-26
Updated: 2006-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-09 05:11:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1141842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paradisecity/pseuds/paradisecity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney channels his inner Vizzini, John eschews capitalization, and Chuck's name really isn't Chuck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Consider the Great Wall of China

**Author's Note:**

> Written for for the SGA flashfic documentation challenge.

  _When asked, "How do you write?" I invariably answer, "One word at a time," and the answer is invariably dismissed. But that is all it is. It sounds too simple to be true, but consider the Great Wall of China, if you will: one stone at a time, man. One stone at a time. But I've read you can see that motherfucker from space without a telescope._

 --Preface to _The Stand_ , Stephen King

_Less_ , Rodney thought, brushing the tips of his fingers over his hair as though hoping to find some heretofore hidden strands cowering behind the others. He squinted harder at the mirror. _Definitely less._ And it was receding in a wretched pattern that left him not so much with a widow's peak as a peninsula of hair jutting into the vast ocean of his forehead. He had time to wonder how his ocean's territorial waters were divided, by hemisphere or by cortex, before he realized he'd taken the analogy too far and probably wouldn't be remiss in getting the sleep that was coming to him.

He'd heard, he remembered, as he unwrapped the damp towel from his waist and left it on the floor in favor of a pair of boxers, that baldness was linked to higher testosterone levels. He couldn't recall precisely how, since (a) it was a medical finding and medicos were synonymous with yahoos and (b) it hadn't been salient to someone who was years from becoming follicularly challenged, but it was nice to find the occasional silver lining. In that regard, he was clearly no Colonel Caldwell -- but he was no Colonel Sheppard, either.

The thought cheered him immensely.

He pulled his laptop into bed with him for a final check of the heat dispersion modifications and found himself looking for something else to do two minutes later. He disliked email in principle -- anything that made it easier for the science monkeys to put their incompetence on display was not something he approved of -- but the burden of command was a weight he'd long ago learned to bear.

> Date: 30 November 2005 23:27:52  
>  Fr: anon@atlantis.sgc.gov  
>  To: rodney.mckay@atlantis.sgc.gov  
>  Subject: [no subject]  
>    
>  9413
> 
> _This e-mail is intended for the addressee shown. It contains information that is confidential and protected from disclosure. Any review, dissemination, or use of this transmission or its contents by persons or unauthorized employees of the intended organization(s) is strictly prohibited._

He skipped over it twice and only took note of it as he was clicking it along to the trash. It took him an alarmingly long moment's thought to place the number, though, he assured himself, the delay was certainly forgivable given the lack of context.

He was initially inclined to attribute it to Radek. They were friends, of a sort, and Radek had devised a number of creative ways to track Rodney's work progress and lab time as a means of monitoring his health and subsequent mood. From anyone else the gesture would have been condescending and incendiary, but Rodney was off-handedly appreciative of Radek's efforts: Radek seemed to realize that Rodney had never really had anyone to worry about him before. It was touching in a disgustingly sentimental way, but Rodney let him get away with it because Rodney knew Radek knew Rodney knew even though he wasn't supposed to know, which made it all vaguely entertaining.

He spent a few minutes checking the server, though he knew it was doubtful he'd find anything incriminating. Their internal communications system had been a quick and dirty set up when they'd first arrived; they'd simply needed it running. Subsequent improvements had streamlined it a bit, but in the early days of the expedition there hadn't been time enough to break it down and rebuild it all at once or enough personnel to spare a network administrator to implement changes over time, so the system had evolved in a jury rigged Darwinism all its own. And most people in the city had the requisite technical knowledge to create a dummy email account and cover their tracks; it really wasn't that difficult, especially for a group of the industrialized world's best and brightest -- hell, some of them had been at CERN when the internet went external.

Rodney was particularly intrigued by the sender's simple anon. He'd learned from unfortunate experience that his monkeys preferred the classic ben.dover, the social scientists drew.peacock, and the engineers adam.baum. As he'd expected, the email was difficult to trace: it had originated at a public terminal before being bounced through each department's server in alphabetical order. Access logs for the relevant time frame had then been deleted, making it nearly impossible to tell by whom it had been sent.

It wasn't fully impossible, of course, not for Rodney. But it was most likely Radek, tracking his out-of-lab hours in addition to his in-lab hours. Rodney yawned unexpectedly and gave a mental shrug -- if not, it wasn't anything that wouldn't keep til morning.

> Date: 3 December 2005 31:12:14  
>  Fr: rodney.mckay@atlantis.sgc.gov  
>  To: anon@atlantis.sgc.gov  
>  Subject: Re: [no subject]  
>    
>  Prime.
> 
> _This e-mail is intended for the addressee shown. It contains information that is confidential and protected from disclosure. Any review, dissemination, or use of this transmission or its contents by persons or unauthorized employees of the intended organization(s) is strictly prohibited._

 --------

Several days passed, wherein Rodney inadvertently saw Miko in her underwear through no fault of his own (pale pink and satiny, completely unexpected); expanded his vocabulary courtesy of Lt. Martinez's Spanish lessons ( _dijo a su mamá_ and _¿que chingados quieres?_   were his current favorites); and, oh yes, saved them all from certain doom ( _again_ ) before he noticed a reply from his anonymous correspondent hadn't been forthcoming.

He'd begun to worry that perhaps his call of PNP had been incorrect, then discarded that immediately in favor of reconciling Radek's schedule for the last several days before he realized his mistake.

> Date: 6 December 2005 11:42:33  
>  Fr: rodney.mckay@atlantis.sgc.gov  
>  To: anon@atlantis.sgc.gov  
>  Subject: Re: [no subject]  
>    
>  2815
> 
> _This e-mail is intended for the addressee shown. It contains information that is confidential and protected from disclosure. Any review, dissemination, or use of this transmission or its contents by persons or unauthorized employees of the intended organization(s) is strictly prohibited._

\--------

The reply came quickly, assuaging the last of Rodney's lingering concerns, however miniscule, that he might have been mistaken. He checked the mainframe again and found the same pattern (indeterminate point of origin, multiple server bounce, deleted access logs) but with a new twist: the access log for Rodney's previous session, wherein he'd attempted to trace the original email, had been flagged. He was on to Rodney, then, this anonymous correspondent, though it was unclear if the flagging was meant as a warning or simply as a notice.

Either way, it didn't much matter. An ill-fated attempt to network the jumper's interfaces had left them all with a need for multiple systems recalibration, not to mention the never ending to-do list that seemed to increase geometrically for each month Rodney was on Atlantis. He had entirely too much on his plate to waste time playing detective.

He did, however, have time for the reply.

> Date: 7 December 2005 00:14:26  
>  Fr: anon@atlantis.sgc.gov  
>  To: rodney.mckay@atlantis.sgc.gov  
>  Subject: RE: Re: [no subject]  
>    
>  np  
>    
>  5737  
>    
>  thank you.
> 
> _This e-mail is intended for the addressee shown. It contains information that is confidential and protected from disclosure. Any review, dissemination, or use of this transmission or its contents by persons or unauthorized employees of the intended organization(s) is strictly prohibited._

The "thank you" threw him. _For what?_ he wanted to ask. _Everything_ was the proper answer, of course, though nothing was what he expected to receive if he asked.

"Rodney!" It was Radek, his voice startlingly loud in Rodney's ear, impatience blurring the edges of his consonants. "Jumper bay, sometime before we begin our next evolution, hmm?"

"Ten minutes," he said.

"Has already been twenty. Time is wasting, and there is black fish for lunch. _Now_ , Rodney."

"Oh, _coges tu riata_ ," Rodney replied in a huff, clicking off his headset in the middle of Radek's subsequent invective. It was highly unlikely Radek knew what Rodney had said, but it was highly likely that whatever Radek had said in reply was ten times worse. Rodney made a mental note to be offended later, but for now he needed a moment to think. If Radek was his mystery correspondent, he'd understand the delay. And if not, well, Rodney had been looking for an excuse to try that phrase out, anyway. Lt. Martinez would be proud.

On a lark, Rodney scrolled back through his email, checking dates. While the base hadn't formally observed Thanksgiving due to the multinational nature of the expedition, Elizabeth had made a speech about gratitude and appreciation before standing them down to light duty in the days before the initial email. Whether the thank you was inspired by that or by the doubtless numerous exhibitions of Rodney's greatness in the ensuing days, there was only one proper response.

> Date: 8 December 2005 14:31:22  
>  Fr: rodney.mckay@atlantis.sgc.gov  
>  To: anon@atlantis.sgc.gov  
>  Subject: RE: Re: [no subject]  
>    
>  Prime.  
>    
>  4619  
>    
>  You're welcome.
> 
> _This e-mail is intended for the addressee shown. It contains information that is confidential and protected from disclosure. Any review, dissemination, or use of this transmission or its contents by persons or unauthorized employees of the intended organization(s) is strictly prohibited._

He was Canadian, after all.

\--------

His anonymous correspondent ( _He really needs a better name_ , Rodney thought, utilizing the universal "he" in deference to the fact that his anonymous correspondent could certainly be a woman, though likely not of the brilliant and blonde variety, given his luck) kept hours just as ridiculous as Rodney's own, if the timing of his replies was anything to go by. His AC did not reveal much about himself, as no further text had been included in his messages, only a series of unfailingly correct answers and numbers for the next round. The things he did divulge, purposefully or otherwise, such as the hours he kept, were dutifully noted and then promptly discarded by Rodney.

They'd settled into a kind of pattern, an electronic version of a cerebral and ultimately pointless game that, in all its intangibility, brought Rodney a very real sense of comfort. He was fairly certain his AC did not want to be found and Rodney was in no mood to go looking. It was enough that his AC had sought him out, that he continued to do so with every reply, and Rodney didn't want to do anything that would adversely affect the perceived fragility of their relationship, such as it was.

If it was Radek (and Rodney had seen no evidence to the contrary), this exchange had improved their working relationship. Rodney was no less inclined to yell, at both length and volume, but he was more inclined to listen, however momentarily. And it may have bled into other areas of his work, as even Teyla was beginning to look at him with slightly less exasperation than usual.

Hmph. They probably thought he was going soft.

In retaliation, Rodney yelled for an extra forty-five minutes at the next departmental meeting.

 --------

> Date: 11 December 2005 16:27:31  
>  Fr: rodney.mckay@atlantis.sgc.gov  
>  To: "AC"  
>  Subject: RE: Re: [no subject]  
>    
>  Not prime.  
>    
>  7007
> 
> _This e-mail is intended for the addressee shown. It contains information that is confidential and protected from disclosure. Any review, dissemination, or use of this transmission or its contents by persons or unauthorized employees of the intended organization(s) is strictly prohibited._

 

> Date: 13 December 2005 03:21:04  
>  Fr: anon@atlantis.sgc.gov  
>  To: rodney.mckay@atlantis.sgc.gov  
>  Subject: RE: Re: [no subject]  
>    
>  np  
>    
>  11939  
>    
>  ac?
> 
> _This e-mail is intended for the addressee shown. It contains information that is confidential and protected from disclosure. Any review, dissemination, or use of this transmission or its contents by persons or unauthorized employees of the intended organization(s) is strictly prohibited._

 

> Date: 13 December 2005 11:29:00  
>  Fr: rodney.mckay@atlantis.sgc.gov  
>  To: "AC"  
>  Subject: RE: Re: [no subject]
> 
> Prime.
> 
> 18899
> 
> What is it with the appalling lack of capitalisation? What did proper grammar ever do to you?
> 
> _This e-mail is intended for the addressee shown. It contains information that is confidential and protected from disclosure. Any review, dissemination, or use of this transmission or its contents by persons or unauthorized employees of the intended organization(s) is strictly prohibited._

 

> Date: 14 December 2005 31:17:15  
>  Fr: anon@atlantis.sgc.gov  
>  To: rodney.mckay@atlantis.sgc.gov  
>  Subject: RE: Re: [no subject]
> 
> p
> 
> 26893
> 
> what did z ever do to you?
> 
> _This e-mail is intended for the addressee shown. It contains information that is confidential and protected from disclosure. Any review, dissemination, or use of this transmission or its contents by persons or unauthorized employees of the intended organization(s) is strictly prohibited._

 

> Date: 15 December 2005 27:11:27  
>  Fr: rodney.mckay@atlantis.sgc.gov  
>  To: "AC"  
>  Subject: RE: Re: [no subject]  
>    
>  Prime.  
>    
>  39903  
>    
>  Also: A-ha! American!
> 
> _This e-mail is intended for the addressee shown. It contains information that is confidential and protected from disclosure. Any review, dissemination, or use of this transmission or its contents by persons or unauthorized employees of the intended organization(s) is strictly prohibited._

 

> Date: 16 December 2005 05:33:02  
>  Fr: anon@atlantis.sgc.gov  
>  To: rodney.mckay@atlantis.sgc.gov  
>  Subject: RE: Re: [no subject]  
>    
>  np  
>    
>  12011  
>    
>  no need to resort to name calling.
> 
> _This e-mail is intended for the addressee shown. It contains information that is confidential and protected from disclosure. Any review, dissemination, or use of this transmission or its contents by persons or unauthorized employees of the intended organization(s) is strictly prohibited._

Clearly, AC was not American: only a great fool would reach for the wine placed in front him. Rodney was not a great fool, so he clearly could not choose the wine in front of him. However, AC must have known that Rodney was not a great fool, so Rodney clearly could not choose the wine in front of AC: AC _was_ American.

Rodney had made his decision.

Only not remotely. Because AC was from Atlantis and Atlantis was populated by brilliants. And brilliants were used to not being trusted as they do not trust others. So Rodney clearly could not choose the wine in front of AC: he _was_ American.

Truly, he had a dizzying intellect.

But he hadn't even gotten started. AC must have suspected Rodney would be well acquainted with DSM criterion paranoia, so Rodney clearly could not choose the wine in front of AC. But AC had successfully tracked Rodney tracking him, so he could anticipate Rodney's aforementioned paranoia. Therefore, Rodney clearly could not choose the wine in front of him. But AC had also thrown the nationality gauntlet, trusting Rodney not to take it and thereby distancing himself from the truth, so Rodney clearly could not choose the wine in front of AC.

AC was trying to trick him into revealing something. It wouldn't work: AC had already fallen victim to one of the classic blunders. The most famous, of course, was this: never get involved in a land war in Asia. But only slightly less famous was this: never go up against a scientist when reason was on the line.

Also, Rodney already knew Radek was not American.

He would have been much better off with iocane powder.

 --------

> Date: 21 December 2005 13:45:48  
>  Fr: "AC"  
>  To: rodney.mckay@atlantis.sgc.gov  
>  Subject: RE: Re: [no subject]  
>    
>  p  
>    
>  21615
> 
> _This e-mail is intended for the addressee shown. It contains information that is confidential and protected from disclosure. Any review, dissemination, or use of this transmission or its contents by persons or unauthorized employees of the intended organization(s) is strictly prohibited._

Rodney had no idea what religion Radek identified with, if any at all, but Elizabeth was showing her diplomatic skill in navigating a nondenominational holiday season ( _Celebrate!_ , encouraged jauntily hung banners in the hallways in a variety of languages) and Rodney figured he could take a page from her book. It was only polite.

However, he was not now, nor had he ever been, a fan of Kool & The Gang.

> Date: 22 December 2005 10:13:42  
>  Fr: rodney.mckay@atlantis.sgc.gov  
>  To: "AC"  
>  Subject: RE: Re: [no subject]  
>    
>  Not prime.  
>    
>  12625  
>    
>  Happy holidays.
> 
> _This e-mail is intended for the addressee shown. It contains information that is confidential and protected from disclosure. Any review, dissemination, or use of this transmission or its contents by persons or unauthorized employees of the intended organization(s) is strictly prohibited._

 --------

Then, of course, there was the mission to M5X-DOOM wherein they got captured by a crazy expat, hooked on lethal alien drugs, and forced to participate in a mission so piss poorly constructed they might as well have just started a land war in Asia. As if that hadn't been bad enough, their rescue and return had included but not been limited to: reluctant (yet no less amazing) ass kicking, spaceship-directed Star Warsian exhortations, sharp knives stored in multiple unmentionable locations upon one's person, traitorous space babes, and, last but not least, the destruction of two Wraith hive ships. It was a rather busy couple of weeks, all things considered, and it was several days after his team's return before Rodney could stop and take a breath, much less notice his surroundings.

When he did, he noticed an anomaly in his quarters: there was a six pack of Molson on his nightstand where he was quite sure there hadn't been one before. It was real Canadian, too: shiny red label advertising _real_ beer, not the crap the Marines liked to bribe Caldwell to smuggle in on the Daedalus or the turpentine Zelenka distilled in the fifth floor north pier lab. There was a cheerful red bow perched atop the bottles and, coupled with the thin layer of dust that covered them and everything else in Rodney's room, it wasn't difficult to deduce they'd been left for him before the mission to M5X-DOOM.

It was long past Christmas, but Rodney had never been the kind of man to turn down a gift. He had also never been the kind to simply enjoy a gift when he could wallow in it, so he took the bottles out of the carrier and tied them together, already plotting the best time to sneak them to the east pier, chill them in the ocean, and enjoy them in well-deserved solitude.

It should have come as no surprise that he was not the kind inclined to share, either.

He was packing the bottles into his knapsack when he realized the six pack was part of the twin labels line launched shortly before he came to Atlantis: _I'm With Stupid_ , the first one said, and _Be Different Say Yes_ , _Don't Hold My Friends Against Me_ , _By The Look Of Things You Must Be Cold_ , _Just Visiting This Planet_ , and _Destiny Would Be An Understatement_.

For the first time in a long time, Rodney laughed.

 --------

> Date: 23 December 2005 04:41:22  
>  Fr: "AC"  
>  To: rodney.mckay@atlantis.sgc.gov  
>  Subject: RE: Re: [no subject]  
>    
>  np  
>    
>  29753  
>    
>  enjoy.
> 
> _This e-mail is intended for the addressee shown. It contains information that is confidential and protected from disclosure. Any review, dissemination, or use of this transmission or its contents by persons or unauthorized employees of the intended organization(s) is strictly prohibited._

 

> Date: 16 January 2006 18:00:03  
>  Fr: rodney.mckay@atlantis.sgc.gov  
>  To: "AC"  
>  Subject: RE: Re: [no subject]  
>    
>  Prime.  
>    
>  20599  
>    
>  Thank you.
> 
> _This e-mail is intended for the addressee shown. It contains information that is confidential and protected from disclosure. Any review, dissemination, or use of this transmission or its contents by persons or unauthorized employees of the intended organization(s) is strictly prohibited._

The beer was good. Very, very good. And if Rodney hadn't wanted to let on he knew Radek was his AC, he'd have asked Radek to join him. As it was, though, Radek already seemed more than a bit bewildered by the good cheer Rodney had bestowed on him as of late. Clearly, he was a much better actor than Rodney would have given him credit for; there was no telling what all the Czech army had taught him.

And then things went just a bit snafu. Radek and Rodney were in Lab 4-C, experimenting with retrofitting a MALP with a small sublight engine. It was one of their many side projects, and one that had to be attended to with the utmost care: every time they requisitioned a new MALP from the SGC after having rendered the previous one inoperable (generally in the form of a rather impressive explosion, which was its own kind of success, the twelve year old in Rodney had to admit), the monkeys received less hooch and cooch on the next supply run and they were already near revolt after the last three failures.

> Date: 19 January 2006 09:28:31  
>  Fr: "AC"  
>  To: rodney.mckay@atlantis.sgc.gov  
>  Subject: RE: Re: [no subject]  
>    
>  p  
>    
>  29201  
>    
>  you're welcome.
> 
> _This e-mail is intended for the addressee shown. It contains information that is confidential and protected from disclosure. Any review, dissemination, or use of this transmission or its contents by persons or unauthorized employees of the intended organization(s) is strictly prohibited._

The email was waiting for Rodney when he returned from the latest failure (and at this rate, he'd end up trying to bribe Lt. Reed and Dr. Fine to make some homemade girl-on-girl to keep the monkeys happy -- though with a last name like Fine, he was sure it wouldn't be the first time she'd been propositioned in such a manner) and it quite clearly fell within the timeframe during which Radek had been with Rodney, armed only with a non email-capable diagnostic tablet.

It worried Rodney for a moment, until he realized that Radek must have upped the ante with an automated email delivery subroutine, just to throw Rodney off. Not quite iocane, but near enough.

The most immediately obvious means of proving his hypothesis was to check the access logs for an indication of a time delay subroutine, but Radek would recognize Rodney's access as he had the first time. That meant, unfortunately, that the only viable solution was Chuck.

Rodney shuddered.

Chuck, of course, was not his real name; Rodney had no idea what it was. He was certain he'd been told at one time, as the name of the chief communications officer was something every Atlantis resident should know, but Rodney simply couldn't be bothered. Plus -- though he'd never admit it of such a slight, well-groomed, boyishly handsome Canadian young man -- Chuck gave him the creeps. There was something oddly familiar about him that Rodney could never place and the way he looked at Rodney like he knew precisely what Rodney was going to say next was incredibly unsettling. Rodney stayed far away from him whenever possible.

But some sacrifices needed to be made. Vizzini would understand.

 --------

"Do it again."

"Dr. McKay, I'm sorry, but there is no time delay subroutine found--"

"Do it again."

"I've already done it three times," not-Chuck said, perfectly polite despite the implied _I'm not an idiot, please go away and bother someone else now_ , "and the diagnostics are correct: such subroutines are in clear violation of security protocols and wouldn't even be allow--"

"Oh, for the love of--" Rodney muttered. "This is Colonel Sheppard's base, Captain," he said. "Do you really think anyone refrains from doing even a quarter of the things that are not allowed?"

"Technically, it's Dr.--"

"Oh, shut up," Rodney said, waving his hand imperiously. "I've seen you in Katie's cannabis lab. Fine then, find me common points of access for these time frames: 09:28 today, 04:41 December 23, 13:45 December 21. Should be Dr. Zelenka."

"No, sir, no common points. Access logs have been wiped. That's a clear violation of--"

" _Monkey_. Of course it's been wiped. Expand the search parameters, half an hour on either side. Go to an hour if you need to."

Not-Chuck sighed, but tapped reluctantly away at his keyboard. "I'll have to inform Dr. Weir, even if it is Dr. Zelenka. Protocol. "

"Fine. Now how about sometime before my next birthday?"

"Three matches," he said a moment later. "Sgt. Barnett, Dr. Ortiz y Pino, and Colonel Sheppard."

"And Dr. Zelenka."

"No, sir. Just the three."

"Go to two hours. No, no, go to four and add these points: 03:21 December 16, 00:14 December 7, and 23:27 November 30. Zelenka, yes?"

"No, sir. Colonel Sheppard."

"Sheppard?"

"Yes, sir. He's the only commonality."

Snafu.

 --------

The day went spectacularly downhill from there. Most notable was his constructive criticism of Miko ("I've practically seen you naked and I was sure I saw a backbone _somewhere_!" to which she responded, predictably enough, by crying and running away, adding much unneeded grist to the rumor mill), though the rest of the day was only slightly less remarkable.

The problem was that Rodney never knew what was good for him. Or more precisely, he knew, but took it only as the merest of suggestions. That was why, when John made his spectacular arrival on Antarctica, all wide _Did I do that?_ eyes and _Hell yeah, I did that_ hair, Rodney's first thought was, _Oh, for the love of --_ but his second was, _Well. I'm in trouble now._

And he'd never really gotten around to getting out of it.

The problem was mostly John's. His default setting seemed to be indiscriminate flirtation though Rodney clearly recognized his subroutine as no intent at all to follow through. Unfortunately, while Rodney didn't possess the ATA gene, he certainly possessed the gene for Sheppardian susceptibility and there was only so much he could be expected to take.

Ironically, that had been one of the reasons he'd so enjoyed his anonymous correspondence. With the first wave of new personnel arriving on the Daedalus and more replacements being made with each run, Atlantis was becoming populated by unfamiliar faces. The forefathers, as Rodney liked to think of them all, had grown closer in response. The subsequent presence of John just inside the edges of Rodney's thought space was becoming a near constant itch, an itch Rodney was afraid was going to need scratching before it would be satisfied and leave him in peace. The distraction of electronic PNP with someone who chose to keep Rodney's virtual company for no reason other than that he enjoyed it had kept Rodney occupied—kept him from spending his nights thinking about what he couldn't have and his days berating himself for acting like a fifteen year old girl when he had more important things to do like, oh, _saving the galaxy_.

To find that John had been the point of origin for it all was more than a little disconcerting.

But with the way his day had been going, Rodney was something less than surprised to find the lights in his quarters dimmed and reluctant to respond to any of his suggestions. He schooled his expression into something not quite so disappointed and exhausted and looked for John, finding him with his feet up on the desk and a grin on his face.

"Took you long enough," John said.

Rodney gave him a half-smile. "Only because I wasn't looking."

"And because you were convinced it was Zelenka."

"That, too."

"You know, you really had him freaked out. I think he was expecting you to show up with a policy bulletin on Canadian marriage laws soon."

Rodney frowned. "Well, with Harper in office that probably won't be an issue much longer."

"Yeah, sorry to hear about that. Doesn't seem like anyone's too pleased."

"No one intelligent, anyway. And hey, worst thing that can happen is that we'll end up like the Americans."

"Hey," John said with the edge of a grin. "Name calling. Seriously."

"Speaking of," Rodney said, avoiding John's gaze by watching the waves rolling slowly past his window, "let's just call it a draw, shall we? But thanks, by the way. For the distraction. And the beer. The beer was _really_ good."

"Yeah? You should've shared."

"At least I didn't share with Zelenka."

"Stingy."

"Oh, like you're surprised."

"Mm. Nope."

And John's words were suddenly warm against his cheek, close and crowded on his skin. "What--" And then they took shape, soft and damp in the smile pressed into his neck, the nearby body close against his own though Rodney somehow hadn't noticed the shift in gravitation.

"My turn," John said, and Rodney had a moment to think, _No, it's not, it's mine_ before John's tongue spoke to his skin, a slow, sinewy whisper of digits vaguely familiar.

"Wait," Rodney said, "stop, what are you--"

John stiffened a little and the trace of numbers slowed, but didn't quite stop. "C'mon, Rodney," he said, low and insistent, "don't tell me I've been reading you wrong. You have to know what I've been doing."

"You, you -- what? I can't--" And then it slid into place against his shoulder, poised on the tip of John's tongue and he said, "Oh, god, is that a _Mersenne_?" and John grinned and caught Rodney with his body when Rodney's own went loose and lush against the wall and said, "If you're lucky, I'll give you a twin," and Rodney said with fervent approval, "Oh, _please_."

And then somewhere in the middle with John's stubble rough against the inside of his thigh and his hand tangled in John's messy hair he said, "Why now, what's--" and John said, "Now is not the time for that conversation," and Rodney said, "John," and John said, " _Shh_ ," only he said with his hands and his teeth and Rodney wasn't quiet but he stopped asking.

 --------

Afterward, with John warm and lazy against him, Rodney said, "Is it time for that conversation now?"

John huffed and stretched resentfully. "Way to kill the buzz. For future reference? Give me ten minutes. Or five. At least five."

"No, really," Rodney said, trying to ignore the way his body thrilled at the intimation, "what's going on here?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"No," Rodney said, sitting up stiffly and putting some distance between them. In the jagged edge of his own voice he could hear all the things he'd never wanted to say. "Tell me what you're doing."

John sighed and got up, casting about for his boxers. "All right, look. I don't know about you, but I'm kind of planning to die on Atlantis. Or somewhere in Pegasus, at least." Rodney's eyes went wide and round and John sighed. "Not _anytime soon_ , obviously -- five minutes, see why I asked? -- but this is my home, Rodney. This is my life. The rest of it."

Rodney watched him carefully, trying to listen for all the things he knew John wasn't going to say. After a moment, John frowned and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "I'm not -- it's not like I'm going to go back to Earth and have a wife and a family and a dog. There is no second half. This _is_ the second half. And if I'm going to die here, then I might as well live here. I don't want to be sixty with retirement or fifty with a shot to the back or forty with a feeding Wraith and think, _I wish I had_.... We can't afford that. Not here."

"But why now?"

"If not now, then when?"

That didn't seem like John, not the one Rodney knew. And that was what finally convinced him, what made up his mind in a matter of seconds when it would otherwise have taken weeks -- and probably not have come out the same. "Okay."

"Yeah?" John gave him that troublemaker's grin, the one that always made him shiver. "Okay what?"

"Okay, you said something about twin primes. Get over here and show me."

 --------

> Date: 14 March 2006 10:54:21  
>  Fr: "John"  
>  To: "Rodney"  
>  Subject: Is not  
>    
>  np  
>    
>  31883  
>    
>  he is *not* creepy and his name is *not* chuck.
> 
> _This e-mail is intended for the addressee shown. It contains information that is confidential and protected from disclosure. Any review, dissemination, or use of this transmission or its contents by persons or unauthorized employees of the intended organization(s) is strictly prohibited._

 

> Date: 14 March 2006 14:34:56  
>  Fr: "Rodney"  
>  To: "John"  
>  Subject: Is too  
>    
>  Prime.  
>    
>  37967  
>    
>  Yes, he is creepy and yes, I know his name is _not_ Chuck. It's Creepy McWeirderson.
> 
> _This e-mail is intended for the addressee shown. It contains information that is confidential and protected from disclosure. Any review, dissemination, or use of this transmission or its contents by persons or unauthorized employees of the intended organization(s) is strictly prohibited._

 

> Date: 14 March 2006 16:22:01  
>  Fr: charles.campbell@atlantis.sgc.gov  
>  To: rodney.mckay@atlantis.sgc.gov  
>  Subject: You do know your email is monitored?  
>    
>  CHARLES. MY NAME IS CHARLES.
> 
> _This e-mail is intended for the addressee shown. It contains information that is confidential and protected from disclosure. Any review, dissemination, or use of this transmission or its contents by persons or unauthorized employees of the intended organization(s) is strictly prohibited._


End file.
